Bob was born and raised in the Northeastern US. He graduated from SUNY Geneseo with degrees in English and Philosophy and completed his MA in English at Boston University. Since escaping graduate school, he's resided in Ithaca, operating No Radio Records, an independent record store and performance space, as well as DJing under the name AutoMatic Buffalo. His first book, The Gilded Palace of Sin, on the slight rise and quick fall of the Flying Burrito Brothers, is due out later this year from Continuum Press.
Kristofferson at times evokes Leonard Cohen, with a voice that pulls the listener into the depths of darkened barrooms, whether to share a sob story or a bit of tongue-in-cheek sagacity. His 20th album is out soon.
In a move fairly common to comics scholarship, Costello at times overstates the case for superhero comics as a product of their times rather than a product of a particular individual’s creative choices.
Even in railing against the influence of another, the musician must admit that influence and its inescapability. Like Br’er Rabbit and the tar baby, every blow struck just brings the two closer together.
For people lucky enough to stumble upon the Flying Burrito Brothers, they made country cool. The music's simplicity and emotive directness, often derided and mocked by hipsters, could now be valid, vital and mean something to a modern audience.
Today, many performers play a revivalist form of Western Swing, but even more may be tipping a hat to Bob Wills without even knowing it. Chomping down on his cigar, Wills and his legacy strut around the stage of musical history, rarely taking the lead but now and then giving a holler of approval.
At a first glance, country music seems traditionally allied with the sort of down-home, small-town ethics and values touted by the Republicans. But the politics of country music has never been a simple red or blue.